


It's Too Late For Dancing Buffaloes

by SlytherinHowl



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Clara is tired, DANCING BUFFALOES CLARA, F/M, Space married dorks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Twelve is an owl, Twelve is oblivious, it doesn't matter, probably set after last christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 04:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinHowl/pseuds/SlytherinHowl
Summary: Clarareallywants to sleep. The Doctor has other ideas.





	It's Too Late For Dancing Buffaloes

**Author's Note:**

> Found this little gem in one of my files and decided to translate it to English and post it here because shit is going down in my other fandom and I needed my fix of fluff but I couldn't write anything fluffy enough for the other fandom so I decided to go back to DW because DW is life. Yes the other fandom is GoT.

Clara Oswald laid sprawled on her sofa, a mug of cold tea on one hand and the remote control of her TV on the other. The sleepy woman would eventually glance at the television, fighting off sleep. Between a lame cooking show and another, she heard the familiar noise of the TARDIS materialising in her living room. Clara groaned and buried her face on a pillow. 

“Doctor, look at the time!” 

“Clara, if you want me to understand what you are saying, you’d better take your face off this pillow,” The Doctor said, his Scottish accent even stronger than it usually was. 

“It’s half past eleven. I’m tired. Please let me sleep.” 

“No way! You’re coming with me, Clara,” he said, lifting her by her elbows, “I’ve just found a new species of aliens! They have humanoid bodies and buffalo heads! They’re four feet tall and communicate through elaborate dance moves!” He sounded excited, like a child who had just gotten new toys. 

“Can I at least put some decent clothes on?” 

“Why? You look lovely like that.” 

“Why do you always say I look lovely when my hair looks like a bird's nest and my pyjamas don’t match?” She tried sounding irritated, but Clara was so tired she didn’t really care about it.

“Because I like nests and unconventional outfits,” The Doctor said, pulling her into the TARDIS. 

“I’ve noticed that, you big owl.” 

“Clara, we’ve discussed that and I _do not_ look like an owl!” 

“Yes, you do with that wild hair and those attack eyebrows. You’re a big, angry owl.” 

The Doctor huffed in annoyance and Clara was under the impression she won that discussion. She dragged herself to where the Time Lord was pushing the buttons on the panel and laid her head on his thin shoulder. The Doctor froze in place. 

“There’s a wild Clara Oswald climbing on my shoulder.” 

“If you stand still she won’t bite you,” The Doctor sighed and pulled a lever down. 

“You don’t really care about the dancing buffaloes, do you, Clara?” 

“Nopity-nope. I just wanna sleep, Doctor.” 

“Back home, then?” He asked and she looked at him with her big brown eyes. 

“Can I stay here with you? I promise I don’t snore.” 

He raised a thick eyebrow at her question, but smiled slightly and agreed. Clara plopped down on a sofa, falling asleep almost instantly. The Doctor’s smile got wider as he removed his jacket and draped it over Clara’s sleeping frame. She looked peaceful. The Doctor ran a long finger over her cheek and placed a light kiss on her forehead. 

“Sleep well, my Clara.”


End file.
